


Lost to the Wolf Inside

by DemonDeepFried



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Animagus, Animagus- Wolf, Confrontations, Crushes, Divorce, Draco is Crushing Harder Than a 12-year Old Girl, F/M, First Day of School, Flirting, Forbidden Forest, Gossip, Gossiping to friends, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Third Year, Humor, Moving, Potions, Talking to Friends, Teen Angst, Teen Crush, Teenage Drama, Teenage Sass, Totally Girl-Talking, Vampires, Wolf Powers, but so are you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonDeepFried/pseuds/DemonDeepFried
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a pure blood witch from a boring town in Bristol, you have only ever felt free while in your wolf animagus form. When you transfer from your old Wizardry school to Hogwarts in the third year, you can almost see everything you've ever found in life come crashing down around you. You're leaving your friends, father, school and an entire life you will never find again.</p><p>On your first day of Hogwarts, you've been sorted, decided you hate the Potions teacher and found yourself a new chew-toy all in the same day. Harry, Ron and Hermione make you feel at home but its the cold blond boy with the sharp tongue and cruel words that really jolts you into this new life. </p><p>You can practically feel your inner wolf grinning excitedly at the prospect of bending his superior attitude to your will and leaving him a crumbling mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Fresh Start

You were stressed. 

Everything in your life was changing now that your parents had decided to split up and move you from your beloved school, Braelford Academy for Gifted Magical Children, and from your best friends: Dantea (a mutant girl with purple skin, black horns and a black tail)- you had known her since you were in pigtails and had stuck by each other when you first joined the Academy; Damian (a vampire from East-Europe)- you had first met him three years ago in Romania and had brought him home to save him from a group of slayers; and Bobby-John (a muggle born wizard from Kent)- you lived next-door to Bobby-John and often stayed round at his house when you wanted a break from your parents’ fighting.

Growling quietly, you shot a dark look in the direction of your mother, who was keeping her gaze firmly on the road as she drove to your new house in London: a two bedroom terraced house in a street in even less quality than your current - _old_ \- one in Bristol. Your parents’ argument had been that you would be at your new school and wouldn’t be spending much time in the new house.

But that was even worse because it was your third year and you would new to all of their customs and were guaranteed to get lost. 

Miserably, you thought back to your last full day in Bristol. You had spent with your three best friends, going into town to shop during the day and then having a small party in the evening. They’d all clubbed together and got you a going-away present, which was a beautiful gold locket which they had bewitched that when opened a black scale, a fang and a handful of glitter would float from it. 

The black scale was a symbol from Dantea; it was from the first time she shed, and you had marvelled at how beautiful it was (because there were so many shimmering colours in the smooth surface- not just black.)

The fang was from Damian. It had been lost during a fight when he had been bullied for being a vampire (’You shouldn’t be here! You’re a filthy bloodsucker!’) after one of his attackers had hit him in the face. But you had come to Damian’s rescue, throwing the guys off him and, with the help of Dantea and Bobby-John, had landed the three bullies on the floor.

The glitter was from Bobby-John- a private joke the four of you shared. Since Bobby-John was so openly gay and comfortable with it, you often shared small chuckles over it. One of which was that he could produce rainbow-coloured glitter.

Fiddling with where the locket hung comfortably around your neck, you rested your head against the cool window and watched the rain patter against it and run down in droplets. 

You were not happy about this move.

* * *

However, when you finally arrived at the house, you decidedly hated it even more.

The nearest large expanse of woods or forestry was nearly from where you were situated. As soon as you had heaved your luggage inside, you set off at a run for the Bandicoot Forest.

Reaching it, you took a moment to slip your eyes closed and breathe in the foreign air and musty smell of the trees, then you focussed your mind and felt your body twisting and changing out of its human form until you landed on your hands - _paws_ \- and flicked your golden eyes open.

Changing into your animagus form of a wolf always soothed you because a wolf couldn’t feel stress. 

It felt anger. 

It felt hunger.

It felt comfort.

But it didn’t feel stress.

Feet pounded dry earth.

Leaves rustled with wind.

Birds chittered in trees.

_Here, you were free._

* * *

Students crowded everywhere. It took a minute to realise that they were all shooting indiscreet glances in your direction, whispering hushedly to each other and pointing.

 _Yeah, I’m a transfer_ , you though bitterly. _Fucking deal with it._

Trudging up to the small stage at the top end of the hall had you averting your stare to the floor and awkwardly shuffle towards where a female professor, with a stern face and pointed hat, motioned towards the worn stool stood in the middle. Self-consciously, you avoided eye contact with the rest of the gathering- a sea of black pointed hats and robes- and nervously placed the scruffy old sorting hat on your head.

Expectantly, you muttered to yourself, “ _Come on, please put me in a good house- or no house at all! Then I can go back to Braelford!”_

“ _From Braelford, huh_?” the hat replied.

You were slightly startled for a minute at the twisted, inhuman voice but then stuttered, “ _Uh, y-yeah, I am. My mother made me come down here after her and my father split. All I wanna do is go home, but–umm, if you could put me in a good house, that would be pretty good too…?”_

The sorting hat seemed fairly amused at this and mulled it over thoughtfully. “ _Hufflepuff, perhaps? No, much to fiesty for that- and not to mention your unsociability-”_

_“Hey!”  
_

_“-Ravenclaw then? No, no, no, definitely not. So that leaves…Gryffindor…or Slytherin?”_  the sorting hat seemed to be smirking to itself and gods knew what you looked like right now with the browned material slipping over your eyes, “ _Both would highlight your true quirks and personality. Umm, let me see, ah yes, a lot of independence- but that could go either way- courage and loyalty (Gryffindor attributes,) but also a quiet and manipulative tendency (certainly Slytherin.) Where–to–put–young Miss Y/F/N…”_

You mentally swore and huffed loudly. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Professor Mcgonagall sneaking curious glances at you- apparently you were taking a while. If only the bloody hat would just make up its min-

“Gryffindor!” it shouted suddenly and you tore it off your head with a sigh of relief before trotting down the stage steps and to the cheering table of - _you assumed, anyway_ \- Gryffindor students.

“Hi,” a smiling brunette with a mane of tangled hair greeted you, offering her hand, “I’m Hermione Granger. This is Ron and Harry. You’re Y/F/N, right?”

Momentarily stunned by her babbling, you quickly accepted her hand with a small polite shake and nodded. “Yeah, good to meet you.”

The aforementioned Harry and Ron were sat, respectively, to your right and to the left of Hermione opposite you. The ginger one, introduced as Ron, had a mouthful of sausages already (you had been sorted after all of the first years,) and Harry- a boy with milk bottle lens glasses and untidy ebony-coloured hair- was sipping shyly at a jug of pumpkin juice.

“Hey,” you greeted tersely, loading your plate up with some mash potatoes. and some red meat to soothe the wolf in you.

“Y/N?” an Irish, and immediately recognisable, voice came from behind you. “Oh my god! It is you!”

Turning, you spotted one of your mum’s friend’s sons, Seamus Finnigan grinning at you. “Seamus, hi!” you greeted, wrapping him up in a hug and feeling your mood lift. Sitting him next to you, you began properly engaging in the conversation between the third year Gryffindors with renewed zest.

So, you had one familiar face, and three prospecting friends.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

* * *

The first class you had the next day was Potions. _Fan-bloody-tastic._

It had been your least favourite lesson at Braelford, too, the only joys in it being your seating position: on the only four-seater table in the room, at the back, with Dantea, Damian and Bobby-John. 

Your teacher had been an uncaring middle-aged man with a short temper and tendency to ignore how you joked and chatted freely in the dark corner of the small, damp tower room that was situated in one of the academy’s turrets hidden in the forest. His name was Professor Tielby and he had balding mousey brown hair with grey eyes that once too often strayed longingly to the drawer in his desk where he kept his firewhiskey.

Professor Snape, you decided, was nothing like Tielby.

While Tielby was arguably more amicable, Snape was just the embodiment of all things that were fucked up with the world.

The first words he said to you were, “Sit with Potter, do not disturb my class, catch up where necessary.”

Unfortunately for you, the wolf inside had no filter and when someone didn’t pay you equal respect you either got really angry (alpha mode jumping into gear) or really sassy. 

Fortunately, it seemed your wolf was in a sassy mood today and it looked like you weren’t going to spontaneously turn into a wolf and maul your new teacher in a sign of domination.

Unfortunately, he didn’t look like the kind of man to appreciate teen sass and the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. 

“Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed, this morning,” you replied, arching an eyebrow and gauging his reaction.

It seemed the class had silenced completely.

Waiting for Snape’s reaction.

 _Well, shit_ , you thought to yourself.

But, surprisingly, the hook-nosed, greasy-haired man smirked and said in a voice devoid of emotion, “Apparently. Miss Y/L/N, I actually think you should go and sit next to Malfoy.”

There was a terse bubbling of murmurs; you shrugged and went to sit next to the blond boy indicated.

After that, the lesson ran quickly. You spoke very little to ‘Malfoy’ but had managed to find out that his first name was ‘Draco’ after the pug-faced girl next to him addressed him as such for the tenth time. It was actually really starting to get on your nerves. The lot of them were.

A house brick had more brain cells than both Crabb and Goyle put together, and all they seemed to talk about was food and beating kids up.

Pansy Parkinson had a squealy, grating voice and acted as though licking Draco’s shoes clean would be the greatest honour.

The tall dark boy, Blaise Zabini, had been checking you out since you entered the classroom and you were pointedly ignoring the flirtatious smirks he kept shooting your way.

And then, Draco himself. 

He acted as though he had been sevred upon by house elves his whole life and it wouldn’t surprise you if he turned his nose up at people who washed their own clothes. As it turned out, he was a pureblood on the warpath to destroy every living wizard or witch who wasn’t.

The first thing he’d properly asked you had been, “So, you’re a Gryffindor, I see. It wouldn’t surprise me if you were a blood traitor, too.” At that, all of the other Slytherins had sniggered.

Rolling your eyes, you groaned, “Great, you’re one of those dicks that thinks they’re oh-so-superior just because they have two magic parents. You know back at our school, we had a word for people like that? Yeah, we call them ‘assholes’.”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and stepped into your personal space to warn you very quietly, “You wanna watch what you say me, Y/L/N.”

“Oh yeah?” you retorted, taking another offensive step forwards so that the two of you were chest to chest and you could feel his warm breath on your face- _ooh, he smells like peppermint…_ “Or what?”

“I have a lot of influence,” he told you without missing a beat, “I can make your life here Hell.”

Smirking tauntingly at him, your inner wolf rose to the challenge with a wicked grin of glee, and you replied with, “So can I.”

Then you said slightly louder, loud enough for the rest of the class to hear, “Draco! That’s disgusting! There is no way I’d do that with you, you perverted creep!” Jumping away from him as though you’d been electrocuted, you scoffed in mock disgust and flashed him a subtle wink before moving over to Hermione’s table.

He stood there, speechless and motionless, only managing to stutter incomprehensibly, “W-what–I, I didn’t…she-she…”

Under the table, Hermione gave you a high five and an approving nod before you all returned to your cauldrons- Malfoy doing nothing more than frustratedly sulking at his.

But every so often, without your noticing, he would sneak glances in your direction and the smallest of impressed smiles would play on his lips.

_You had caught his attention._

_And so the game began._


	2. Hating and Crushing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After meeting Draco Malfoy in your first Potions class at your new school, Hogwarts, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. And apparently, that goes both ways...  
> Basically, you and Draco won't stop talking to your friends about each other and they're starting to raise eyebrows.

Draco exhaled in a sigh and let his head fall into his hands. He was sitting on a plush sofa in the Slytherin common room, Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass sat opposite him- Daphne ignoring the both of them as she tried to focus on her studying and Blaise watching Malfoy curiously.

“What’s up with you?” he asked finally, after having watched his friend-  _that didn’t sound right, Draco didn’t exactly have friends. Perhaps, associate? Colleague? Boss?_ \- daze off in a day-dream like state for the better part of an hour. 

Looking up and fixing the other boy with a frown, Draco snapped, “What? Nothing. Why do you ask?”

Holding his hands up defensively, he quickly replied, “Calm down, seriously, Malfoy. I was just wondering ‘cause you seem awful caught up in your thoughts.”

Letting the wariness drop, Malfoy slumped back into the sofa and groaned, “Yeah, I know.”

“Anything you wanna talk about?” Blaise asked cautiously- knowing that Malfoy wasn’t one to discuss problems or feelings at the best of times.

Shuffling himself into a lying position on his back, Draco hooked one leg over the other and stared up at the ceiling. “It's that transfer girl in Gryffindor. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since that Potions class,” he admitted sullenly. “I don’t know what it is. Probably just because she’s so infuriating. Did I tell you what she did in Potions?”

“Yes. Yes, you did,” stated Daphne, without looking up from her parchment, “Several times actually.”

“Shut up, Greengrass,” Draco barked. “Nobody asked for your opinion.”

Rolling her eyes at his characteristic- and almost predictable- reaction, Daphne returned to her work and went silent. 

“She was a right bitch,” Draco said decidedly, almost as though he were speaking to emphasise the point in his own head. “She was rightly placed in Gryffindor. It's where that belongs, no doubt about it.”

Blaise nodded along.

“Thinks she can just stroll in here and act all alpha and shit,” he spat. “She actually said, loud enough for the  _entire_ class to hear, about- I don’t know- some creepy sex thing. Fuck knows. She’s just a little shit.”

Furrowing his brow, Blaise perked up and asked, “Did you actually ask her to-”

“No, I did not!” Malfoy snapped, shooting the other boy a dark look. “She just wishes that I’d want her like that. Attention seeking and all that."

There was a pause for a few seconds. 

“...But then it was actually pretty witty of her,” he mumbled, quieter.

This caught Blaise’s attention and he shared a look with Daphne who had also rejoined the conversation at that statement. Judging by Draco’s faraway look, it seemed as though he hadn’t meant to say that out loud and hadn’t realised that he had.

“She is really feisty, I kinda like that,” he went on, voice softer and quiet. “I wonder if she got kicked out of her last school for it. That would be pretty cool. I can kinda imagine her talking down a teacher, I bet she’d stick up for herself. I wonder if she's seeing anyone. Well, she only just moved here so she probably hasn’t met anyone yet and I can’t imagine she’d keep a long-distance relationship. 

“I bet she’s so confident, but such a kind person. I saw her helping Neville with his potion and she was just so sweet. I bet she’s secretly like that all the time but just puts on a show of being all hard outer shell,” Draco mumbled to himself. “God, she’s gorgeous.”

At this point, it was obvious that these thoughts weren’t for Blaise and Daphne’s ears, but while Blaise made to move away, Daphne just came out with, “Draco, if you like this chick you should just ask her out.”

Suddenly realising he’d spoken aloud, Draco sat bolt upright and glared at the both of them. “Like her? I don’t like her. Urgh, you’re beginning to sound like one of those muggle preachers who reckon we should all ‘just get along’. She’s a Gryffindor, I’m a Slytherin and she’s a bitch! Filthy little bitch, bet she’s a blood traitor too. Urgh, why would you even say that? Fuck you, Daphne, I’m going to bed,” Malfoy declared, already turning to head towards the boys’ dorm.

Blaise and Daphne shared a knowing look.

 

* * *

 

 

You watched the flakes of snow drift across the window and couldn’t help but think of platinum blond hair.

“Hey, Y/N,” Ron called to you from where he sat in front of the fire. “Want to come play some wizard chess?”

“Sure,” you accepted, sliding off the window seat and coming over to sit on the battered love seat before the fire. “We loved playing wizard chess as Braelford.”

“Awesome, then maybe I’ll finally have some competition,” Ron chuckled, looking pointedly over to Harry and Hermione, who sat on the floor doing homework for Charms.

“Oh shut up, Ron,” Harry shot back. “I beat you once.”

“ _Once_ ,” Ron enthused, “Out of the several hundred games we’ve played over the years.

You laughed and helped Ron set up the board. Since Potions, you hadn't been able to get Draco out of your head. Every wisp of peppermint you smelled, every glimpse of light blond hair, every flash of blue-grey in the skies- it all reminded you of him. 

“So,” you began, trying as best you could to sound casual. “That kid, Draco Malfoy, he’s an asshole. What’s his deal?”  _Yeah, that was it, talk about how much you don’t like him and it won’t sound like you just wanna know everything about him._

Harry snorted. “That’s putting it lightly,” he said. “Malfoy’s a bigger douchebag than Professor Snape. I don’t even know what he has against me, but so long as he’s being a dick, I don’t like him.”

You nodded wisely and went on, “But why is he such a wanker? I mean, nobody’s just born into the world as a dickhead.”

Hermione jumped in, “It's probably his family. The Malfoys are all fascists who believe pure-bloods are dominant and turn their noses up at anyone who doesn’t have two magical parents.”

“He’s been a dick since I can remember,” Ron added. “My dad and his work together at the Ministry and my dad says he can’t stand him. Mr Malfoy has a lot of power, too, and uses it for his own purposes all the time. Remember when he got Buckbeak sentenced to death with a click of his fingers? Yeah. The whole family’s fucked up.”

Chewing your lip, you nodded to satisfy them, but replied, “Well, he seems like a colossal dick, but I suppose he could be alright. I mean, he  _did_  end up cutting my lilyweed for me, in Potions. You can’t be  _that_ bad if you’re willing to help strangers with their chopping because they’ve been at it for ten minutes and still haven’t made a dent.”

Hermione looked up from her studies and caught Harry and Ron’s eye.

“And besides, he’s got that kind of snarky bad boy thing going,” you went on, ignoring your friends’ raised eyebrows. “His hair is just on point all the time and his eyes are just...like ‘eat me the fuck up’. I reckon he’s ripped, I mean have you seen the way his shirt fits on him? At least abs, I’m betting you.”

“I am not taking you up on that bet,” Harry said quickly.

You remembered yourself and spared some of the blushing with a laugh at his comment. “Sorry, kinda forgot myself, I guess.”

Waggling her eyebrows, Hermione replied, “Sure.”


	3. Discovering a Species

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After heading into the Forbidden Forest for a run in wolf form to free yourself of the stress of your new school, you're found by Draco in animagus form and he confronts you about it. But things go a tad bit more flirtatiously than you'd feared.

Shaking off your human skin like a coat, you merged into your animagus form and rolled your hackles as you shook your head, accustoming yourself to the change. Pawing the dirt ground, you snapped your teeth and snarled at the empty air; then launched between the trees with a lupine power in your muscles.

The feel of the wind carding through your coarse fur was soothing and you felt as though it had been an age since you'd breathed fresh air- air that carried with it the musky scent of woodland.

Tossing your head back, a howl burst forth from your lungs and soared up through the trees to the reddening late afternoon sky. Claws tore up the dry ground and ripped small green shrubs from their roots. 

Your paws pounded the earth as you ran through the mess of thick boughs and crawling roots; then suddenly you met dazzling sunlight and realised that you'd run from the clearing you'd started in, in the middle of the Forbidden Forest - _it's their own fault for naming it something that would appeal to any troublemaker_ \- right back to the edge. Some few yards from where you were, entire body peering out from between the trees, the gamekeeper's hut stood with white smoke furling out of the stone chimney in wisps.

Transfixed for a moment with watching the vague movement behind the window of the hut, your ears pricked and your head snapped to the left at the sound of a twig cracking. Fixing your yellow eyes on the tall body in front of you, your bared your teeth and growled defensively.

The shape and features of the body took longer for you to process in your lupine mind-set, but you noted blue-grey eyes and platinum blond hair. As well as lean muscles, long limbs, tall stature.

**_Not a threat._ **

He wasn't moving. That unnerved you slightly as you watched him with curiosity alight in your poison yellow irises. You waited for him to make the first move. But none was made and it seemed like a long while before he murmured quietly, "There are no wolves in the Forbidden Forest. Certainly none without a pack."

The words meant little to the wolf but your human mind recognised the few words that strained through and you rumbled another low growl at the sharp way he pronounced with emphasis on the word _pack_.

"You're not a werewolf," he went on without breaking eye contact. "Skinwalkers are only found in African tribes. So, what - are - you?" He punctuated the last sentence with a suspicious drawl.

In answer, you lowered your body to the ground and snarled at him. You didn't like how he looked down at you and spoke with a voice that claimed.

At this response, he narrowed his eyes.

In a single quick movement, he whipped out his wand and pointed it at you and shouted something your wolf ears couldn't decipher as you lunged at him. But as you both toppled over with you bearing your weight down on his front, you realised with a start that the hands holding him down were human hands: clawless and hairless.

"Y/N?" he gasped, shock marring his features as you looked down at him and uncomfortably shifted your body which was pressed into his.

Opening and closing your mouth like a troubled goldfish, you managed to stammer out, "M-Malfoy! Wh-wh-what brings you, umm, out-out here?"

At that point, he rose an eyebrow and gave you an expression that said _really?_

"I fancied a stroll through the grounds," he replied sarcastically. "But I think the more pressing question is what the fuck are _you_ doing out here!"

"Umm," you started, voice breaking. You could feel every curve of muscle and every angle of bone digging into you, and that was kind of toying with your focus. "Well, the grounds are so beautiful this time of day-"

Draco rolled the two of you over with force so that he was straddling you and looking down into your eyes sternly. His hands were either side of your shoulders and the smell of peppermint and hawthorn was making you slightly delirious.

"You're an animagus," he said matter-of-factly, a wicked grin playing on his lips. "And I'll bet you're unregistered, too."

Narrowing your eyes, you growled underneath him and bared your teeth, wishing for sharp canines.

All he did was smile slyly as his eyes flickered over you and he drank in the image. "So that leaves the question," he continued, "what do I do with you now...?" His throaty voice drew out the words in a sly threat and you twitched beneath his body.

Feeling your wolf rise up, the corner of your lip twitched and you rolled the both of you back over until you were hovering over him and replied in a mock innocent but firm voice, "You're not going to do anything, Draco, because you may be able to reverse my animagus now but you have nothing to protect you from a wolf bite should the mood strike me."

His brow arched. "Is that a threat, Y/L/N?" he asked in a dangerous voice.

"Perhaps."

"Then," he murmured, lust flooding his eyes as they flickered to your lips, "I invite you. Bite me."

The idea of sinking your teeth into Draco's milky flesh was all kinds of appealing, but you fought down the sudden urge and instead scoffed at him and didn't resist when he rolled you both over again.

"In which case, you can tell me when you became an animagus," he asked conversationally, and as he did, he leant back on his haunches and regarded you with polite curiosity.

Sitting up, you shuffled your weight onto your hands behind you and replied, "When I was in my first year." You didn't expand any more than that because you couldn't stifle the wariness of Draco that had built up inside you.

He was watching you now with a hint of infatuation and something glinted in his eye like he was holding back on something he wished to say.

"You're unregistered," he went on. "Can't you be put in Azkaban for that?" His expression took on a air of graveness as he said it.

Pressing your lips together, you bent your head down. "Umm, yeah," you admitted. "But I...never mind."

There was a beat of silence before you both looked up at the darkening sky together and mutually agreed to return to the castle. The trek back across the grounds was in conversation as the both of chatted about animagi and how being a wolf has affected you, where you came from and your three best friends back in Bristol, and Draco's family and history of Hogwarts.

At the marble staircase, you glanced at each other and parted on the words, "Well, guess I'll see you around."

When Draco reached the door to the staircase that led to the dungeons, he looked back over his shoulder and couldn't help the awed breath that escaped his lips as he watched the goldening sun pour in through the main doors and spill on your hair in glowing streaks.

"Hey, Y/L/N," he called, quite out of control of his own mouth movements.

You turned and raised an expectant- and hopeful- brow.

The words 'I'm sorry about what happened in Potions' died in his throat and instead, he said, "At Hogwarts, Gryffindors and Slytherins don't mix."

He'd said it to push you away, to make sure that nothing happened. To make sure that he wouldn't act on his own interests because that would be _wrong-_

"Guess I'm still a troublemaker here, too," you retorted without missing a beat, flashing him a grin before trotting up the stairs and disappearing around a corner.

 

* * *

 

Laying in bed that night, Draco couldn't get the image of coarse silvery fur glinting in the afternoon sun and brilliant amber lupus eyes out of his head.

The slippery feel of satin sheets over his bare legs made him shiver in the cool dungeon common room; retrieving his wand from the bedside table, he flicked it and murmured the incantation under his breath to cast a heating charm around the velvet hangings of his four poster.

Blaise grunted something incomprehensible in his sleep and rolled over. The rustle of fabric reminded Draco of the way your robes billowed around your ankles when you walked briskly.

Then he thought of the way your body felt when it was pressed into his; every groove and every dip fitting together two well-worn palms. Letting his lids slip closed, he remembered the wild glint in your Y/E/C eyes as you held you down on the ground and grinned mischievously at him. The image imprinted with brilliant colours on the underside of his eyelids and he wished he would have the chance to feel your body crushed against his again, but knew that he shouldn't.

You were a Gryffindor.

Probably not even a pure-blood.

Certainly a blood-traitor.

And, not to mention, an unregistered animagus.

He could hear his father's disapproval radiating all the way from London.

" _Shit_ ," he swore to the quiet dormitory. Because it was the only thing to say that wasn't: ' _I'm falling for her_.'


	4. Bottling It Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has been avoiding you ever since he found out about your being an animagus, but you're not sure whether you want to talk to him or not. When Blaise and he get into a fight in the middle of Potions, you decide you've made up your mind on the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go guys! Lots of angst and even a teensy weensy little smut :)
> 
> Enjoy and review!

“Ah, come on, Y/N,” Seamus goaded, nudging your shoulder for the fourth time that morning. “I’m tellin’ ya: you’d be a great addition to the Gryffindor Quidditch team!”

“I’ve already said _no_ , Seamus,” you told him firmly, turning your attention solely to the fried bread and scrambled eggs in front of you.

“What’s this about?” Ron asked as he slumped down beside you and began shovelling sausages and baked beans onto his plate. “You trying out for Quidditch, Y/N?”

“ _No_!” you snapped. “Seamus reckons I should but I don’t want to.”

Seamus turned his efforts onto your three friends now, levelling with the two boys who had just arrived and the bushy-haired brunette who had come down to breakfast with you. “I’ve seen her play since she were in pigtails, and she’s fantastic! A chaser to rival Angelina, I’m tellin’ ya!”

Harry mulled this over before addressing you with, “Maybe you should try out then, Y/N. I mean we need all the decent players we can get if we’re gonna beat Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins.”

You choked on your mouthful of pumpkin juice at the mention of Draco’s name.

“M-Malfoy?” you stuttered, coughing the juice out of your lungs. “He-he plays?”

Hermione sent you a curious look, but Harry said, “Oh yeah, well he bought his way onto the team. I mean his father bought the whole team these brand new brooms just so they’d _have_ to have Malfoy. It’s mad.”

“It’s pathetic is what it is,” Ron interjected.

Nodding absently, you toyed with your food and found your gaze wandering across the Hall towards the Slytherin table. You could see Crabbe and Goyle jeering at a first year; even Pansy Parkinson curling her hair around her fingers and scoffing down greasy food. But you couldn’t see Draco anywhere.

The two of you hadn’t directly spoken since he found you in the grounds and it worried you that maybe he had told someone.

What with listening to Harry and Ron spouting Malfoy Hate all the live long, and hearing about every horrible thing that Draco had done, you were beginning to rethink what you’d thought had been an accurate memory of that moment in the grounds. Maybe he hadn’t smiled at you with that genuine smile, and if that hadn’t been real then maybe you’d imagined the ice melting a little in his eyes. In hindsight, of course you’d imagined that. You’d been told a thousand times since then about how Malfoy bullies first years, discriminates against muggle-borns, and pokes fun at Harry and Ron and Hermione.

Yes, you’d definitely imagined it all. He’d probably just sneered at you and ran straight off to tell his father.

“What’s up with him?”

“Hm?” you grunted as you looked up to see Ron peering over his shoulder in the direction of the large double doors at the front of the hall.

It was Draco.

Every doubt left your mind when you saw him, and you felt your heart quiver as your stomach plummeted below the depths of reality.

After another moment of watching him with interest, you saw what Ron was talking about. He was nervously searching the mass of students buzzing around the Main Hall and he looked slightly ruffled. When his eyes cast over you, they stopped and locked on you.

The moment he spotted you, he spun on his heel and almost ran right back out of the Hall.

Instinct took over, like it had so many times before as you felt the wolf rear itself inside you, and you clambered over the bench and took off running behind him.

Your friends called after you, but you ignored their distant cries of your name as you squeezed through the throng of students. When you had finally managed to get out into the corridor, you couldn’t see him down either end of the corridor.

“Fuck,” you swore under your breath, deciding that you might as well head to your first class now anyway, and joined the crowd that was moving down the corridor.

* * *

Your first class was Charms, and you shared it with the Hufflepuffs. Hermione grabbed your arm before you got inside the door and pulled you down a deserted corridor, turning you roughly to fold her arms and glare at you.

“What was that about?” she asked you harshly, arching an eyebrow when you stammered around a denial.

“I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…” you offered, fruitlessly trying to feign ignorance.

She narrowed her eyes. “You ran after Draco this morning,” she accused. “I saw you. Right after he walked right out of the hall, you went after him. What’s going on?”

In that instance, she reminded you of Dantea- your old friend at Baelford- who had a fiery attitude and always knew when something was up and wouldn’t relent until she was informed what it was. From what you’d gathered of Hermione Granger, she was a lot like Dantea- with the exception of her love for knowledge.

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat loudly and tapped his foot against the stone tile of the floor, sending you both a pointed look.

“We gotta go!” you announced, turning sharply on your heel to dive into the classroom, with Hermione close behind you.

You swear you heard her mumble something harsh under her breath, but it could have also been a growl. What a good wolf she would make, you mused.

Taking your seat beside Seamus on the back room just behind Harry and Ron, you removed from your bag the relevant books, quill and parchment to start taking notes as Flitwick began talking.

The lesson went quickly enough with you sat next to Seamus: the two of you chatted quietly with Ron and Harry while you were practising the Spokelius charm (a charm that produced a small mist that spoke with your mouth) with Hermione shooting suggestive Looks at you in random intervals.

At the end of Charms, you all but ran out of the room and bolted down to your Potions class in the dungeon. Barrelling over a group of three first years on your way, you clattered down the narrow staircase and immediately fell clumsily into Draco’s arms.

He caught you from falling and held you for a moment, gazing into your face, before he realised his company of judgemental-faced Slytherins and shoved you away from him. When you stumbled onto steady feet, you fixed the bag strap over your shoulder and looked up to see him brushing his hands down his robes with a face of disgust.

A flash of hurt made your stomach grumble and the wolf inside you pawed at your chest.

“Got a little _mud blood_ on you there, Draco,” Pansy drawled, appearing from nowhere- a near impossible feat considering her elephantine size, _bitch_ \- and started lovingly dabbing at his robes.

He pushed her off him as well with a sneer, before addressing you with a shadow flickering in his eyes, “Better watch where you’re going, mud blood.”

Narrowing your eyes, you stifled a growl.

“Better watch who you’re hanging around with, Blondie,” you shot back. “Don’t wanna make Pug-Face jealous now, do you?”

Draco frowned for half a second, then realised what you meant and glanced at Pansy with a look of horror. Pansy, on the other hand, was glaring daggers at you with a piercing vibrance of jealousy that could be physically seen in the air.

The blond stumbled over his words as you ducked under Snape’s arm and into the classroom the minute he opened the door.

“Eager, Y/L/N?” Snape called after you, returning to the front of the classroom as the rest of the class filed in.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, “totally.”

Hermione, Harry and Ron joined you in another five minutes, all hauling their potion textbooks out of their bags along with ingredients and cauldrons. Harry was grumbling about Malfoy while Ron was fretting about his essay on the uses of Grundlewood in potions.

While Charms had gone quickly, Potions went about as slow as a one-legged elephant in a wind tunnel.

Draco’s brush-off of you earlier was tugging at the beast inside you, but not like you were used to. It was a new feeling that felt sickening and hollow.

After you’d thrown in the diced Mandrake roots, you searched around your desk for the lily flowers and blew a raspberry through your lips when you found that you’d lost yours. You swerved around Neville, who had managed to turn his potion magenta pink, and Seamus, who was in the process of blowing his up, as you headed to the ingredients cupboard.

Wrenching the ancient door open, you bent over almost double to root around in the lowest shelf for the lily flowers.

“Looking good, Y/L/N,” a silky voice purred directly behind you.

“Gah!” you exclaimed, shooting upwards and bashing your head on the cupboard. “ _Shit_. The fuck do you want, Blaise?” Suspiciously eyeing the dark-skinned boy in front of you, you noticed that the corner of his lip was curled upward in a flirtatious smirk.

He raked his eyes slowly up and down your figure, as though he was drinking in the sight of you. “You know,” he went on, ignoring your question, “I’d like to see you in that position more often.” His pink tongue flicked out to wet his lips and his dark eyes reached yours and held them.

He winked.

“What are you talking about, Blaise,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him and trying to signal Hermione over without looking like an idiot.

Chuckling softly, he peered up at from under his lashes and smirked again as he held you under his gaze. “I think you know what I mean,” he rumbled suggestively.

Your eyes widened.

“Umm…” you managed to get out before suddenly two bodies crashed to the floor and you screamed as the slightly shorter of the two landed a fist squarely into the other’s face.

“Draco!” you shrieked, hands flying to cover your mouth as you watched helplessly as he punched Blaise into the stone floor. “Draco, what the fuck- _Draco_!”

The blond was _pounding_ his fists into Blaise’s face, jaw, stomach; Blaise was struggling under Draco’s weight and crying out for help, trying to hold his hands over his face.

“DRACO!” you screamed. The wolf’s power exploded in your leg muscles and you dived at Draco, crashing your weight into him and taking him to the floor. “Draco! Get a fucking hold of yourself!” He fought your hold of him so you leant hard over him and held his arms down by his biceps.

He gave another hard shove at you but at the baring of your teeth and low growl in your chest, he froze and went stock still under you, staring up at you with wide eyes.

“What is going on over here?” Snape snarled, bearing down on the both of you. Before he had the chance to drag you up by the scruff of your neck, you stood up straight and released Draco.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, grabbing a lily flower from the cupboard and stalking back over to your desk.

* * *

That evening, you sat in the common room silently finishing your homework in your favourite overstuffed armchair by the fire. But you had been staring at the same sentence in your _History of Magic_ textbook for the past ten minutes and your concentration was dancing blindly out the window, prancing about in the early dredges of snow.

The image of Draco pounding his fists into Blaise’s lean body wouldn’t leave your mind and plagued every thought that sprang forwards.

Groaning to yourself, you checked the grandfather clock in the corner of the room and saw that it was about the time that Draco finished his dinner and headed down to the cloisters while Crabbe, Goyle and the rest of the Slytherin gang returned to their dormitories. The sudden idea of running through the halls to meet him there struck you as the clock chimed loudly.

“Fuck it,” you muttered to yourself, making Crookshanks yowl when you stood up too quickly, throwing him off your lap, and sprinting out of the common room and down the stairs.

Throwing the Fat Lady’s portrait aside, you dived down the stairs and across the deserted corridors. The moon was gleaming like a spectre through the wide windows of the castle as you slowed down to a quick walk; with the coming of winter, the nights drew in as well and it was already dark as midnight and just as cold.

Stumbling down the marble staircase, you swung around a banister haphazardly and made your way down the corridor that lead to the cloister gardens.

As you reached the archway that opened up into the gardens, you peered round and spotted Draco lounging on the snow peppered grass. He was lying on his back with his arms folded behind his head, his gaze was turned upward to the sky and even from where you were stood you could see his dew grey eyes flickering across constellations.

Watching him there seemed to ground the chaos inside you and, almost unaware of your actions, you padded across the grass- clad in your pyjama bottoms and a flimsy vest top underneath an over-sized sweater you stole from Damian before you left Bristol, all covered over in your large dressing-gown- and gently lay next to him. Without saying a word, you imitated his position and searched the Heavens yourself.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” he asked quietly, his voice soft and dangerous in the night.

You let your eyes close and whispered, “What happened today? In Potions?”

He sighed beside you and his arm brushed against yours. “Can we just…not?” he replied, voice pleading. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Rolling your head to the side so that you could see the outline of his face in the darkness, you urged, “ _Draco_ …”

With a great sigh, he turned his head to look at you as he admitted, “Look, Blaise was flirting with you and…and being a git. Are you really that sorry that I interrupted your little to and through or were you enjoying it?”

You gasped. “For your information, I was not enjoying it thank you very much,” you snapped bitterly, focusing your attention back on the sky, purposefully ignoring him.

“Y/N,” he murmured, reaching out a hand to cup your cheek and turn your gaze back onto him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I just…never mind.” He dropped the hand but held your attention.

“Then what did you mean?” you pressed, watching as he turned his own stare back onto the sky, losing his silvery irises in the mess of stars above. "And don't just say 'never mind' again."

Closing his eyes, he blurted out, “I didn’t like watching him flirt with you, OK?”

You frowned. That wasn’t what you’d expected him to say at all.

“You…you didn’t like watching him…flirt with me?” you reiterated, confused.

Exhaling noisily, Draco lolled his head to your side and gave you a Look which you felt should mean something to you but didn’t. “Look, it’s stupid,” he said quickly. “Just forget I said any of that.” He sat up and made a move to stand up and leave.

“Wait,” you stopped him, dragging him back down with a hand on his arm. “Please, Draco,” you begged, “why have you been avoiding me? Ever since you found out that I was an… _an animagus_ …you’ve been ignoring me and completely blanking me apart from the odd ‘mudblood’ jokes. You know I’m a pureblood by the way, don’t you?”

Draco shook his head as though clearing thoughts, then told you firmly, “I haven’t been avoiding you because I found out that you’re an animagus, that doesn’t bother me. It’s actually pretty cool. And yes, I figured out that you were a pureblood a while ago.”

“Then what is it?!” you exclaimed, standing up with him and grabbing a handful of his shirt in your fist, stepping into his personal space so that you were barely millimeters apart. “What do you have against me, Draco Malfoy?!”

There was a vague shine in his silver eyes before his lips were suddenly on yours and he was… _holy crap, he was kissing you!_

It was more of just a press of lips really, and it was over in an instance. Breaking away first, Draco searched your eyes nervously, chewing his lip. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean it, it was nothing-”

“Shut up,” you halfway ordered him before you were crushing your lips against his messily and the pair of you stumbled back onto the cool, damp grass, interlocked in a tangle of limbs and lips.

Shuffling your weight so that you had your legs either side of his as you lay on top of him, you licked your way into his mouth and mumbled incomprehensibly into his warm – _fucking peppermint tasting!_ \- mouth. One of his hands threaded into your hair and tugged lightly as he sucked and nipped at your tongue; his other hand snaked under your sweater and caressed your side through your vest top.

You tangled your fingers into his platinum blond locks and gasped as he cupped your breast through your top, his chilly palms making you shiver bodily in the cold. Almost uncontrollably, you ground your hips down onto his and he hissed into your mouth, throwing his head back with a long groan. Taking advantage, you sucked a deep purple bruise into the milky white skin of his neck and lost yourself in the string of curses and _delicious_ noises that were bubbling from his kiss reddened lips.

In a quick movement, Draco rolled the both of you over so that he was hovering over you and shot you a wicked smirk, to which you returned a dangerous growl that rumbled your chest- he could feel the vibrations through his own as it was pressed so hard against yours.

He licked a long stripe from the hollow of your throat to your jawline with just the tip of your tongue, and you squirmed under him as the cool breeze of the wintry night blew over it. Your skin tingled like electricity and thrummed with Desire.

Your head was lolling back in the snow and you watched with a new found wonder as the stars writhed in the navy quilt of sky. Draco sucked and nibbled and kissed your skin with a passion you’d never felt before. It burned in both of you and when those flames met there were explosions and chaos- but also so, so much _more._

Draco captured your lips in another kiss and you felt shivers run from your lips to your abdomen where heat pooled and coiled like the wolf was ready to spring or howl or attack.

“I love you,” he murmured into your mouth.

_Well, shit._


	5. Friendly Rivalry?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened last night has been haunting you; it plagued your dreams to the point when you couldn't sleep at all.  
> He'd kissed you. He'd told you he was in love with you.
> 
> But it's not like there's the all-important quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin this afternoon which you were thrust into after a Gryffindor player suddenly went down with dragon flu or anything.
> 
> Oh, wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has actually been forever since I updated this but I suddenly got a mood to write and when I went to continue my novel (my editor is hounding me about the deadline!) I couldn't find my notebook anywhere. So, I checked my inbox and found a message asking if I was ever continuing this series and...

"Hey, Y/N. Are you alright?" 

You startled at the sudden voice but settled back down when you realised it was only Hermione. "Huh?" you replied intelligently.

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she accounted, "Just, you look like you didn't get much sleep?"

"Um, yeah, sorry," you mumbled. "Rough night, I guess."

She considered you with a careful expression before nodding slowly and replying, "I'm sure. I saw you run out of the common room and I don't remember you coming back while I was still up."

Blushing, you tumbled out of your four poster bed and disappeared into the shared bathroom, calling a reply behind you, "Yeah, well, um, urgent library business. You know how it is." With an edge of panicked hurry, you scrubbed your teeth, dragged a brush through your hair and murmured the spell to apply your makeup (one you had picked up from Bobby-John, who did his sister's.)

"Actually," Hermione said, coming into the bathroom and leaning against the sink counter, "I don't know how it is. Care to explain?"

You gulped and avoided her eye as you returned your toothbrush to the glass by the large stone-framed mirror. "There...was a test--that, I did not study for," you spluttered finally. "And then I remembered that there wasn't a test at all and I just did a load of studying for no reason." Laughing nervously, you bustled past her and slipped your robe on straight over your pyjamas- shedding only your oversized hoodie- and sprinting for the stairs with your bag in one hand and wand behind one ear.

In the main common room, Ron and Harry were perched on the bag of the loveseat chatting quietly. When they spotted you, they smiled and stood to go to breakfast.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked, craning his neck to spot her behind you.

"Oh, just coming now," you assured him, panting and grimacing as you see the time and realise that you had slept in late. "She's such a slow coach in the morning, you know."

"Not really," the boys said in unison with matching querying frowns marring their faces. "Hermione's literally the opposite of that."

"Y/N!" Hermione's voice snapped from the top of the staircase.

You leapt out of the way with a yelp and clattered into a suit of armour that  _had no place in a school,_ _goddammit_.

"'Sup, girl," you greeted with a false grin. "How about we go get breakfast, huh? I'm starving, are you starving? I could eat a dragon! Well, then, let's go."

Before any of your friends could say anything, you were already on the other side of the Fat Lady's portrait and tearing towards the Great Hall.

* * *

 

At breakfast, your flighty behaviour hadn't improved. In fact, it was probably worse because you were trying to surreptitiously spy out Draco across the hall and couldn't find him anywhere. 

At the Slytherin table, Pansy Parkinson looked almost as saddened by Draco's no-show as you were. (Ok, probably not.)

"Y/N," Seamus enthused from across the Gryffindor table, waving a hand across your line of sight. "What is  _with_ you today? You're acting  _really_ strange."

You brushed him off with a dismissive response that even you didn't catch but you were brought swiftly back to reality when he continued, "Is it to do with us playing Slytherin today? I know you didn't try out for the team but you'll do great anyway and we didn't have any other reserves who could play at such short notice-"

"Wait," you interrupted him, holding up a hand and focussing your attention entirely on him. "What."

Seamus paled at the sudden direct turn of attention and stuttered, "W-well, you know, Albi went down with dragon flu and we needed a player for the Gryffindor/Slytherin quidditch match today so I asked Ron to ask you and he said you'd do it."

Spinning around to face Ron, you snarled, " _What_."

Gulping in sudden apprehension, Ron defended, "Well, Seamus said you were really good at quidditch but I knew you'd never say yes without a little prompting, s-so I said yes for you and now you kind of have to do it because we told McGonagall...and you look like you're going to hit me, please don't hit me."

A growl rumbled your chest and somebody might've noticed your eyes flashing lupine yellow, if it wasn't for Harry's sudden exclamation of, "Oh my god, look at Malfoy!" 

Your head snapped round to search the few wandering students by the huge doors. They located Draco and a tight exhale left your gaping lips without your comprehension because he looked  _drained_.

There was no other word for it.

His hair was still spiked from his pillow; his eyes were tinged bloodshot and bagged lightly; his robes were ruffled and creased. And  _oh god_ \- There, nestled in the hollow of his throat, was the hickey you'd left and forgotten all about. Even from this distance it was painfully obvious but apparently he hadn't noticed because he looked as though he'd barely noticed the trip down from his dorm to the Great Hall. He seemed as though he hadn't slept at all- much the same as you- and there were a few murmurs around the hall as others noticed him.

 _Damn, he's still so edible, though_ , your mind supplied unhelpfully.

"Well, at least he doesn't look like he's gonna be much to beat on the pitch," Ron pointed out hopefully. "I wonder what happened to him? He looks like he's been living in the Forbidden Forest."

Hermione made a noise in the back of her throat that had you eyeing her warily. She was staring at Draco but you were sure that she was watching you out of the corner of her eye.

"If he is playing today," Seamus piped up, "then I bet he'll bring down the rest of the team as well. They all just orbit around him and if he's as... _dishevelled_ as he looks then it'll be a walk."

"Yeah," you hummed, dragging your eyes over the blond as he strode wearily to his usual spot and sank gracefully onto the bench. Your eyes swept across his lean limbs as he reached for the orange juice and poured the amber liquid into his goblet with a neat precision. Even from across the hall, you marvelled at his long deft fingers.

When his eyes flickered up to meet yours over the rim of his goblet, they shone with a smile that you would only find on his blank lips if you knew where to look. You bit your lip and held eye contact for as long as you could, bathing in the beautiful silver shimmer dancing like moonlight even at a distance.

The Gryffindors around you carried on wittering and nattering about quidditch tactics that you probably should have been listening to, although the only thing that was registering in your mind was  _he told me he loved me._

_And the glimmer in his eyes meant, he meant it._

* * *

 

As soon as your plate was clear, you were hustled from the Great Hall by Ron and Seamus who both hooked one of your arms and ran to the quidditch changing rooms.

"Right," Ron started.

"Angelina's got quidditch kit in there for you," Seamus informed you.

"And we'll strap you up with pads when you're changed," Ron added.

"Be as quick as you can but make sure you've got everything."

"As soon as you're finished, run out and we need to go through the strategy plan."

"And we'll tell you what you're doing and what position you're in."

"Angelina will probably tell you some of the things you need to know, while you're in there."

"If you need anything, shout, because we need to be quick getting changed."

"We'll probably be out of the changing rooms before you."

"You'll find us in the shared changing room between the females' and males'."

"We'll be going through strategy."

"Avoid Fred and George as much as you can because they'll try to delay you."

"Just to piss me off," Ron scoffed bitterly.

You flailed your arms at them and barked, "Guys, I've got it. I've done this before, I know what I'm doing. Just let me go get changed in peace."

The pair of them held up their hands in surrender and backed off towards their own changing rooms, shouting a last, "Be quick! We'll be in the shared room! To talk about strategy!"

Rolling your eyes at their desperation to win the match, you hurried into the changing room and grabbed the spare kit by the door and began to tug off your robes and pyjamas.

 

Halfway through your getting changed, there was a muffled clang of something behind you and you whirled around with your wand extended. 

Draco sprang bolt upright with his hands outstretched and a sheepish expression on his face. There was a stray mop bucket upturned by his feet, rolling side-to-side leisurely.

"Draco?" you exclaimed.

"Shh!" he shushed you, sneaking further into the empty changing rooms- you'd sent Angelina to help Ron and Seamus when she started hovering too much. "I just came in to...see you-- before the match."

You felt heat rush to your cheeks and a smile spread across your lips. Glancing down, you realised that Malfoy was already in his quidditch kit and  _damn_. He was wearing a soft-threaded long sleeved emerald jersey with a white stripe across the middle, two leather guards strapped around his forearms and a pair of black fingerless gloves covering his deft hands. His legs were clad in tight black leggings, brown leather guards strapped from his ankles to his knees and a pair of battered brown dragon skin lace-up boots on his feet. The platinum blond locks that were usually tightly controlled were tousled carelessly as though he'd been dragging his fingers through them without realising, and his fringe was swept to the side with little precision.

Opening your mouth to reply, a garbled sound came out instead and you shut your mouth again sharply. 

If anything, that seemed to amuse Draco and give him enough confidence that he stopped sneaking terrified peeks over his shoulder.

"Sorry," you apologised, clearing your throat and hoping you never heard that noise again.

With a shake of his head, Draco said, "Don't be sorry. You haven't done anything wrong. I have, and that's partly why I wanted to see you. I want to apologise."

"For what?" you asked with a frown.

"For..." he stumbled. "I don't know, for saying-- what I did last night? I-you didn't say it back and, well, you didn't exactly say anything actually and I wasn't sure if I maybe scared you off or freaked you out or anything. So, I'm really sorry, if I did any of those things. And you don't have to keep talking to me: hell, you can kick me out right now and I'd run. Just...say something?"

You stammered around your words and, in the end, managed, "Draco, I've only known you for about six months, but my wolf is pretty much constantly howling at me to claim you as my mate. And that's kind of a big deal for me. So, I don't really know how humans are supposed to feel love, but I'm fairly sure what I'm feeling is probably it."

The biggest, most genuine grin steadily tugged Draco's lips further and further up his pinking cheeks at your reply, and without much hesitation, he swooped in and laid those lips on yours. Just like last time, the kiss began slowly and hesitantly. However, when you reached up to wind your fingers through his shaggy locks and tugged, he parted your lips with his tongue and walked the pair of you backwards until your back was against the wall.

The sudden cold made you jump and consequently grind your hips against Draco's. He shivered and pressed harder against you until you forgot all about the freezing stone at your back and could hardly understand anything that wasn't Draco's warm tongue sliding against yours and his lips sucking and pressing against yours and his hands soothing and palming at your skin and his legs pressing against the heat in your groin.

He slid a leg between yours and you found yourself rubbing down on uncontrollably. Against your stomach, you could feel the hard outline of his erection and it made your mouth water all the more as you imagined its weight heavy on your tongue.

With that thought in mind, you dropped to your knees and pried open his breeches.

Realising what you were doing, Draco gasped and put his hands over yours to halt their progress on the laces over his crotch. "Y/N," he murmured through a lust-filled gaze. "You don't have to do this."

"I want to," you replied, licking your lips. "Do you?"

After a split second of searching your face, he nodded and moved his hands from his breeches to caress your face. You shot him a smile and finished untying the knot on the dark fabric. Beneath, he was wearing tight gray boxer briefs and his erection was all the more obvious- as was the dark patch of precome staining the material. Curiously, you mouthed at the hard line and revelled in the stuttering groan it produced from the blond.

You licked at his dick through his boxers until they were satisfyingly damp, before you gradually pulled them down and revealed his thick member. It was certainly a lot larger than it had appeared tucked away in his boxers; it was flushed and sprung so hard it touched his flat stomach. His heavy balls were nestled by a neatly trimmed bush of fine blond hairs.

Swallowing, you eyed it a moment longer before poking your tongue out and giving an experimental lick from the base, following a throbbing vein, all the way to the head. A rewarding bead of precome oozed out of the slit in his head and you licked it away with the tip of your tongue: it had a salty taste but it wasn't unappealing. Above you, Draco hissed and whimpered pleadingly.

Flicking your eyes up to see his face, you felt your knickers dampen at the sight of his teeth biting down so hard on his bottom lip and the strained twinge in his eyes. Keeping your gaze locked on his expression, you leaned forwards and swallowed his cock down in one. 

The reaction was instantaneous.

His mouth dropped and he groaned long and loud, his hand reaching to thread into your hair.

Any panic you might have had about somebody hearing him disappeared when you felt the tug of your hair in his hand and felt yourself getting even more wet as your wolf practically drool at the tiny act of domination. 

You pulled up his dick until only the head was breaching your lips, and sucked hard, swiping your tongue across his slit. He whined and moaned and mumbled incohesive nonsense as you slowly lowered back down, relaxing your throat muscles so that his cock slipped down your throat. When your nose was buried in the soft blond curls at the base of his member, you swallowed around him and he almost cried out before swiftly biting down hard on one of his hands. The noise that came out was strangled and needy.

It gave you the most delicious pleasure to have so much control over someone, to be able to watch him be stripped until he was coming apart in your hands. 

You sped up your relentless assault on his leaking cock, sucking and bobbing and licking. As you really started making speed, you reached behind to fondle his balls. That seemed to be the last straw as he tried to tug you off his cock before he was yelling out and coming in thick stripes down your throat. Halfway through swallowing the incredible amount of his come, you noted that he'd been trying to warn you so that you'd have time to pull but one look at his face as you swallowed the last droplets and you decided that swallowing was so much better.

He look  _debauched_.

One of his fingers swiped through a droplet of come running down your chin and you sucked it into your mouth without much thought. He groaned again and knelt down on the floor in front of you, kissing you reverently and murmuring endearments into your mouth.

The way he cupped your cheeks with such infatuation and marvel made you feel like the most important person in the world- most of all to Draco. You hoped your expression made him feel the same way.

"You realise you've been walking around with a bright purple hickey on your neck, right?" you choked out, your throat raw.

Draco pinked and touched his neck just to the left of where the mark was. With a fond smile, you corrected his touch and shifted his fingers to where the mark lay on his throat and watched him massage it with adoration.

He gazed back into your eyes and smiled. "I do now," he said with a chuckle.

Your face split in a grin and you laughed. "We're going to be so lucky if nobody heard that," you told him. "You were pretty loud."

Raising both eyebrows, he shot back, "I'm loud? Clearly you didn't hear your own moaning."

"Moaning?" you exclaimed with a gasp. "I was not moaning!"

At his grin, you slapped his arm and laughed at yourself. 

"We should probably get going," you muttered. "I know Seamus and Ron are going to be waiting for me and if I take too long, they'll send Angelina back in to come get me. Dressed or not dressed."

Draco smiled and bowed his head. "Yeah, I should be going as well," he said. "I just gave Blaise a brief excuse as I was running out of the changing room. He'll probably ask me a shit load of questions when I get back- none of them will be good."

Sympathetically, you dropped a kiss on the high of his cheek and backed away to stand up. He did the same and laid both arms on your shoulders to kiss you once more: this time, slowly and almost like a dance.

When he pulled back, he let go and trailed out of the changing room with a parting smile warming the melted snow drifts in his eyes.

* * *

 

"Y/N!" Ron yelled when he caught sight of you coming into the shared room between the two changing rooms- the one that Gryffindor had turned into a strategy room. There was a semi-circle of wooden chairs around a blackboard stolen from Mr Binns' classroom and quidditch themed posters stuck all around the walls.

You rushed over to the blackboard where Ron, Seamus and Angelina were standing. "Where's the rest of the team?" you asked, glancing around you to check they weren't in the room at all.

"With Oliver," Seamus answered. "Trying to persuade McGonagall to make Slytherin drop one of their chasers because they've got one too many but say it's because one has a weak ankle and so it's only fair that they have an extra player to even up their team."

Frowning, you stated, "But that's bullshit."

"Exactly," Angelina agreed. "That's why they're telling McGonagall and getting her to talk to Dumbledore. Now, never mind that, we need to talk about  _you_."

"Um," you replied, still barely recovered from your session with Draco- which was still pretty much the only thing in your head. "About me?"

"Yes," Ron clarified. "You're going to be filling in for Savannah, who's filling in for Albi, who's in the sick bay with dragon flu."

"...What does that all mean?" you frowned.

"Albi was the forward striking chaser so Savannah is filling in for him because she always practices up front with him," Seamus said.

"But she usually plays in the central chaser position, which is the easiest for new players in the team, so she's taking Albi's position and you're taking hers," Ron finished.

"Comprende?" Angelina checked.

Your eyes widened. "Huh?"

Just then, Harry poked his head around the curtain that lead out onto the pitch. He shot you a grin and said, "You good with playing a chaser, Y/N?"

Sighing, you replied, "That is all I needed to hear. Thank you for putting it in English, Harry."

He grinned and laughed, coming into the room to raise an eyebrow at the blackboard and the three quidditch enthusiasts around it. "Have you been making things over-complicated again? Y/N isn't used to your overwhelming enthusiasm for quidditch yet, and we don't want to scare her off," he chastised, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. 

Gratefully, you snuggled into his warm red jersey- imagining, at the same time, what it would be like to snuggle into Draco's.

"Y/N," Harry said. "All you need to do is be a chaser and do whatever you used to do at Braelford. Is that alright?"

"Yeah," you nodded confidently. "I can definitely do that."

"Awesome," Harry declared, shifting his glasses on his nose. "Then let's go beat Slytherin!"

The other three cheered but you just smiled privately.

 

Outside, the weather was perfect for quidditch. There wasn't a breath of wind and the sun was shining but there were enough clouds that the atmosphere wasn't overbearingly hot. You silently thanked the Quidditch Gods for the small blessing, and made your way to the rest of the team.

Oliver handed you his spare broom with a soft smile that you returned warmly. "Thanks, Wood," you said, sliding your hand down the broom to accustom yourself to the grain. Flipping it in your hand, you gauged the weight and found the balance within your palms. It was a good model and very similar to the one you'd used at Braelford- which was still there since it had been snapped in two after flying straight through the academy's kitchen window.

With the rest of your team, you made your way onto the pitch, broom in hand, and watched Oliver meet Flynn in the center of the field to shake hands. Behind the Slytherin team captain, you spotted Draco.

His gaze was on the ground but he was gently probing the mark on his neck with a wistfully happy expression on his face that made you smile.

 

Five minutes after Madam Hooch had blown her whistle, you had already scored once and were now hovering in the air watching the Slytherin goal keeper stare in horror at the hoops once again. It made you chuckle.

Booming from the speakers was Fred and George's friend's voice as he commentated on the game.

" _-and that just was...wow...it was...wow. Y/N has shown us all that Hogwarts has been going slow on quidditch all these years. She really does look amazing on that stick-- and that uniform- hey, woah, woah, okay, Professor McGonagall, less favouritism. I got it._ "

You laughed out load and reclined lazily on your broom as Angelina flew past you towards the Slytherin goal with the quaffle tucked under her arm.

Across the pitch, Malfoy caught your eye and you watched him zigzag across the pitch in search of the snitch. He looked up as he was flying and saw you-- and promptly slid off his broom and yelped as he only managed to stay on by his fingertips.

Biting down the urge to fly over and help him, you settled instead back to watch him as he struggled to pull his leg back over the sleek wood. He blushed and glanced at you with a grimace that made you grin fondly.

 

Gryffindor won 210 - 40 after Draco toppled off his broom and onto the sand on the ground while he was racing against Harry for the snitch. 

It was probably just coincidence that you'd accidentally swooped a bit too low on your broom and your too-big jersey had slung up your torso, revealing an expanse of bare skin.

Yeah, it was totally a coincidence.

And you definitely wouldn't hold it against him.

_Absolutely not._


End file.
